


Happy Little Fangs

by demonjeans



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Comedy, Cryptids, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, and dead squirrels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10798662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonjeans/pseuds/demonjeans
Summary: The thing is, the dog looked... strange. Teeth that were too big for its mouth, tongue hanging out from the side. Pitch black uneven fur that sprang out in random tufts wet from the rain. The thing looked like it’d go for someone’s neck the very chance it got but there he was held close to Dean’s chest.





	Happy Little Fangs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NerdyAdjacent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyAdjacent/gifts).



> I lost a Wrestlemania bet and I finally had time to make this happen so here we are!

"Can we keep him?"

Looking back the easy answer would've been to tell Dean no. Yes, Seth wanted a dog but he wanted it to be a shared experience between the two of them. But there Dean was soaked to the bone having stopped on the way home after spotting this puppy looking terribly lost in the middle of a thunderstorm. 

The thing is, the dog looked... strange. Teeth that were too big for its mouth, tongue hanging out from the side. Pitch black uneven fur that sprang out in random tufts wet from the rain. The thing looked like it’d go for someone’s neck the very chance it got but there he was held close to Dean’s chest.

“Please?”

And how is Seth supposed to say no those baby blues? From the night they met he was doomed whether Seth knew it or not. By year six he’s just come to accept it. Terrifying fangs and all. 

“What if it has rabies?” Seth frowns, eyeing the small odd looking puppy.

“It doesn’t have rabies.”

“It could.” He says.

“Steve doesn’t.” Dean counters.

Seth raises an eyebrow. “Steve?”

Dean smiles, proud of himself. “That’s what I named him. He looks like a Steve, right?”

“Uh, sure.” Sometimes there are moments where Seth debates whether the love of his life is genuinely adorable or a toddler trapped in a thirty year old man’s body. This is one of those times. 

“Well, since you already named him I guess we can keep him. But give him a bath. Poor thing stinks.”

The big problem is that Dean travels a lot. He wrestles all over the world while Seth writes from home, occasionally going along when a locale peeks his interest or they’ve just been missing each other. Seth’s never thought twice about it, until Steve that is. 

It’s not so bad the first few days. Dean’s home and Steve sticks by his side for the most part. He’s not unfriendly to the puppy by any means but Seth isn’t exactly reaching out to pet him either. The thing just looks like it’d bite his hand clean off then stare at him with its giant eyes like it’s no big deal. 

Then Dean leaves and it’s up to him to watch over this tiny creature with no tail. Which is another odd yet endearing thing about this dog, everything about Steve is just a touch off. The first day they’re alone together Steve seems depressed, sitting by the front door waiting for Dean to come back. Eventually he wanders the house as if looking for him and only finding Seth. 

“Looks like you’re stuck with me for a week.” Seth says then laughs. “Or I’m stuck with you. I feed you and you don’t bite me, deal?”

Steve gives him a tilt of his head, long tongue hanging outside of his mouth amplifying his expression.

“You’re really... something, know that?” And despite himself Seth gives the little pup a smile. “Oh god, I’m going to be one of those people who holds conversations with their pets…” 

It’s slow going. Steve snoozes on Dean’s spot on the couch while Seth sits opposite as they watch TV. He puts on some god awful show about Bigfoot that he knows Dean will be watching in his hotel room. It’s silly but it’s something they watch together and text over the more ridiculous parts. Poor Steve is not prepared for when Seth reacts to cookies being placed in the woods as sure fire way to catch a Bigfoot.

“Oh, come the fuck on!” He shouts and Steve springs into action looking awake and ready to launch himself from the sofa.

“Shit. Sorry- uh, the fuck am I supposed to do? It’s ok. Lay down. Chill out. Uh-” Seth’s cut off by Steve crossing the sofa and sniffing at him. When he assesses that there’s no danger plops down just at arm’s reach. 

Seth snaps a photo and sends it to Dean. _**‘He’s not terrible, I guess.’**_

It’s progress. Though Seth isn’t exactly sure if that’s good or bad, at least he feels less worried about Steve chomping at him. That feeling dies down a little that night, however, when Seth gets up from bed to get a glass of water and nearly has a heart attack. From the darkened living room are bright red glowing eyes staring him down. Seth hops back, shouting obscenities as the eyes get closer and closer until the darkness gives way and standing before him is Steve giving him that confused look again.

“What the fuck, Steve?!” He shouts which makes the poor thing shrink back and Seth feels like a jackass. He sits down on the floor and sighs, extends his hand. “Sorry, uh, it’s ok. I won’t yell again, ok?”

Steve eyes his hand for a moment, slowly approaches as though waiting for it to bite. It makes Seth want to laugh. Apparently they’re both expecting the worst out of each other. The second Steve licks his hand Seth smiles, even though it’s a touch gross, and in response he lightly scratches under Steve’s chin. It’s enough, because after that moment Steve sticks to him like glue. 

Seth never had pets growing up. Everything needed to be perfect and in its place, a trait that he somewhat carries if his mostly spotless house is any indication. If not for Dean the place would look barely lived in. It’s not that he wants their home to look that way but habits are hard to break and it’s absolute torture knowing there’s a stain on the kitchen floor mocking him. The point is, pets have a way of making sure things are ever changing. At least that’s the case with Steve. 

Stealing clothes from the laundry basket. Chewing on shoes. Running up and down the halls leaving little claw marks on Seth’s pristine wood floors.

“Ok, you’re going outside to work off that energy.” Seth opens the backdoor and Steve flies out of the house. 

It’s a good plan. Initially. He watches Steve from the kitchen galloping around the backyard chasing after birds and getting frighteningly close to catching them. 

“Circle of life, or something.” He reassures himself and continues to when later that night Steve coughs up a handful of feathers. 

It’s not a fun mess to clean. He snaps a photo of it and sends it to Dean with a caption reading, _ **‘Your dog murdered a bird!’**_

He’s not really mad at Steve. He’s a dog, that’s just something they do he guesses so Seth lets him out the next day with that thought in mind as he busies himself cleaning the house. Again, everything seems fine. Right up until Steve trots in and drops a dead squirrel on his lap. On the one hand he wants to punch Dean right in the face for bringing Steve home. On the other, Seth’s really glad he isn’t around to hear the unholy screech that escapes his throat. 

He does not take a picture of the squirrel. Though he does stare at it a moment, it looks strange, shriveled up like it’s been drained or something. It’s not something he dwells on too much as he throws it out along with the pants he was wearing at the time. It doesn’t matter that he could wash the smell of dead squirrel out, he’ll know it’s there and they will forever be the dead squirrel pants so it’s best to cut that off at the pass. Steve all the while watches him seemingly proud of himself wagging his butt in lieu of a tail. Seth’s heard of cats bringing dead birds to their owners as a present maybe this was Steve’s version of that? 

“Well, uh, thanks.” He reaches down and pets Steve’s head standing there in his boxers. “But don’t do that again! ...You have no idea what I’m saying, do you?”

It’s not all dead animals, though. Steve’s still a pretty goofy puppy who runs faster than his legs can carry him, smacking right into walls and furniture. He loves fetching the squeak toy bone Dean bought him before leaving, although it no longer squeaks and one half is chewed beyond recognition. By the day before Dean’s set to come home they’re actually somewhat getting along.

And that’s when the real trouble starts. 

That night Seth is attempting to teach Steve to sit while another one of Dean’s stupid shows play in the background. Every so often Steve actually seems to get it backing up slowly as if to sit then hopping forward. He sighs, ready to give up when the narrator on the TV catches his ear.

_“...gets nourishment from draining the blood of animals. Most popularly goats, as is indicated in the name.”_

Seth looks up, jaw dropping at the image on screen. This vicious beast with nasty fangs, giant black eyes and random tufts of fur. It looks exactly like an larger version of Steve...

“Holy shit…. HOLY SHIT!” He makes a mad dash for the remote, hitting the rewind button in the blink of an eye.

He watches the show from the start, stomach dropping further and further every minute. It’s one in the morning when he sends a text to Dean. 

_**‘YOU BROUGHT HOME A CHUPACABRA?!’** _

Of course Dean is states away and an hour ahead so Seth is left sitting there alone with a bloodthirsty beast. This calculating animal most likely plotting his demise. An evil creature... that has flopped over onto its back right in front of him demanding a belly rub. Seth is ready to make a break for it and lock himself in the bedroom until Dean comes home tomorrow night. He wants to, really wants to, but Steve stares at him with his big eyes and he suddenly thinks of Dean, how impossible it is to say no with a simple look.

“If you kill me I’m going to haunt your dad for the rest of his life.” He says extending a hand out. 

He doesn’t die.

Instead Steve gives him little back leg kicks of delight that turn Seth’s panic into something far more manageable. He does lock the bedroom door, though. Safety first.

Dean’s texts the next morning come in a wave of confusion and worry evolving into terror when Seth hasn’t answered back at five in the morning. It’s seven when he looks over the latest texts of _ **‘Are you dead?’ ‘Please don’t be dead.’**_ that he answers.

_**‘Not dead. Bring take out on your way home, please.’** _

In the living room Steve is now sleeping on Seth’s spot on the couch and for some reason he can’t help but smile at that. Then vaguely wonders if he’s losing his mind. There’s a freaking chupacabra in his house, snoring on his sofa. But he’s kinda cute? In a ‘it could rip his throat out but rather give him stolen socks from the hamper’ kind of way. The second he sees Seth walk into the room Steve hops up, backside already wagging ready for the day and damn if it isn’t pretty adorable. An adorable chupacabra that brings him socks and squirrels. Can’t say he ever expected that.

With a quick breath he picks up Steve and carries him into the kitchen to start breakfast. “I’m so fucked.”


End file.
